


Close Quarters

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:07:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Your Root and Shaw fics make my day, I absolutely love them!! Now here is another prompt: Shaw says she doesn't do the cuddling thing, but every night in her sleep Shaw reaches out and pulls Root in and holds her as an instinctual way to keep her safe. Root is caught off guard the first time and Shaw almost squeezes hard enough to hurt, but Root loves it. At first Shaw tried to play it cool and say it was just a one time thing, but eventually grows to accept that she is a cuddler for Root.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Quarters

The day was long, the number exhausting, and both Sameen Shaw and Root Groves were relieved to step foot in Root’s quaint apartment. Every light is off, but both know the layout well enough to maneuver through it with ease. Coming past the living room area, they escape to the bedroom, wanting- no, needing- nothing more than a solid eight hours.  _Maybe ten_ , Root says to herself, as she slides off her overcoat and heels. Rummaging through the drawer, she pulls out a large t-shirt. Quickly undressing, she slips it on, feeling the hem of it brushing just above her knees. With a yawn, she leans against the wall, pushing a hand through her hair as she waits. She hears the water running and sees the smallest rectangle of light escaping under the bottom of the bathroom door. A moment later, it shuts off, and Shaw steps out.

The light of the bathroom is harsh against Root’s eyes, and she squints, looking in Shaw’s direction. The back light keeps her in silhouette, and she glides forward silently. Root can’t help the half smile that makes its way onto her face as she meanders forward, bare feet sinking into the carpet. Shaw stops in the door frame, waiting until Root comes all the way to her, leaning in. Shaw then takes a step back, exposing herself to the light. She has on a pair of baggy, dark gray sweat pants coupled with a black, thick-strapped tank top. Her hair is down, ripping over her shoulders like a black waterfall. Her face is tired, but her eyes are alert, sparking like live wire in the light.

"What are you doing?" Shaw questions her skeptically.

"Trying to give you a kiss goodnight," Root coos back, smile widening.

"Don’t."

* * *

 

Root’s smile drops, trading for a mock-angry purse of her lips, nose scrunching slightly. “Why not?”

Shaw looks at her a moment, eyes scanning over her face before answering. “You haven’t brushed your teeth yet.”

Root crosses her arms, head angling down with a humorous smirk on her face. ‘ _That the best you’ve got?’_  It asks, and Shaw rolls her eyes at it, brushing past Root into the room’s darkness. Root pivots, watching her go, then walks into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She tries not to smile as she does, but finds she can’t control it.  _It’s been a week_ , she muses pleasantly.  _For a whole week, she’s come here every night_. It brings the largest smile to her face, and she has to force the grin away as she swishes water in her mouth.  _Sure, no one else knows, and sure she probably doesn’t even know, but I know_. Spitting, she shuts off the light, walking in the pitch black to the bed. She walks around the foot of it, stopping at the wall window for a minute. She takes in the large, white half moon in the sky, met by millions of diamonds embroidered into the night’s dark shirt.

Yawning once more, she slides onto the right side of the mattress, pulling a large comforter up to her chin. She looks to the left, the moon’s light illuminating this half of the room just enough to see the pale outline of Shaw, back to her as she sleeps. Root smiles lightly, turning towards the window, suddenly feeling restless. Her bones ache, her muscles ache, every part of her asking for sleep, but she can’t seem to close her eyes.  _What is it?_  She asks herself, but doesn’t find the answer.

Behind her, she hears the squeak of bed springs and a jolt in the bed as Shaw moves. Root feels her stomach knot as Sameen’s breath dances along the back of her neck.  _Well great_ , she thinks with an inner laugh,  _now I’ll never fall asle-_

Her thoughts come to a stand-still as she feels fingers on her hip. A palm. Then an arm as it slowly extends, stopping at the elbow to bend around Root’s middle. She can feel her lungs burning, realizing she’s stopped breathing entirely.  _Shaw_. Her hand comes all the way to Root’s other side, fist balling up a small part of her t-shirt. Root, after much time, lets out a terribly slow breath, every nerve in her body shot with cocaine. She can, again, hear the bed squeak, and Shaw’s arm braces against Root’s abdomen as she pulls herself closer. Root feels her eyes widening to saucers, not knowing how to think, how to blink, how to breathe. Every cell in her brain seems to short circuit as she lays there, still as stone.

Shaw scoots forward until she is pressed against Root’s back, a light snore escaping her lips. It sounds like an earthquake in Root’s ears- _that’s how close she is._  Root opens her mouth, trying to form a word, but forgetting English. Forgetting language; forgetting everything except Shaw. The way Shaw smells, the way Shaw feels; it is the only thing she knows.

Root feels as Shaw’s forehead meets the top of her cervical vertebrae, icy nose pressing into the crook of her neck. Her breath falls steadily, warmth spreading across Root’s shoulder blade with each. Shaw scrunches her face slightly, squeezing Root tight. Root can feel the air escape her lungs, forcibly deflating, as Shaw’s arm pulls her in tight. Like a boa constrictor to their prey, Root can feel every muscle screaming for air, not being able to breathe in nearly enough with Shaw’s arm so tight around her. However, she doesn’t dare move- not wanting Shaw to let go. After a minute or two, she finds breathing more feasible, and her body relaxes. She closes her eyes as Shaw’s free hand slides up her back, coming to a resting point between Root’s shoulder and the mattress. It’s stuck on a strand of Root’s hair, pulling it, and she silently bends her arm up and in, fingers nimbly untangling the strand.

Her fingers just barely graze against Shaw’s, but it is like setting off the coil on a mouse trap. Shaw’s hand latches onto Root’s almost instantly, and Root can feel her heart beating like a jackhammer, hoping Shaw cannot hear it. Hoping it doesn’t wake her. Root can feel it through her entire body, heart throbbing so hard it seems that her entire body pulses with it. Still, she tries not to stir, afraid the slightest movement will cause Shaw to move away. She smiles as Shaw’s tired fingers snake their way around Root’s, not letting her hand escape back by her other.

Nerves wild firecrackers, she feels the effects of fatigue finally raging over her, and her jittering thoughts slow into a restful hum.

_____________\ If Your Number’s Up /____________

The next morning, Root awakens first, the newly rising rays of sun streaming into her eyes as they peek above the window frame. She opens them to groggy slits, blinking a few times until her eyes adjust. She starts to yawn, and goes to cover her mouth.  _Wait…_  she finds her hand immobile, and instantly, everything comes flooding back. She feels her heart quicken at the memory and, looking to her side, she smiles. _Her hand is still there._

For a while, she lays there, too caught up in delight to even think of moving.  _Just enjoy it while it lasts_ , she tells herself, knowing that sooner or later Shaw will wake.  _Can it be later?_

She stirs. It is the slightest twitch of the hand in Root’s, but it takes her by surprise. Slowly, the rest of Shaw comes to life. Root feels as Shaw rolls her neck, her forehead leaving Root for a moment before falling back into place. Her left shoulder rolls, and then her fingers uncoil Root’s shirt as she tiredly brings her hand away. Root feels a burst of cold rush to the place where Shaw moments ago was. She hears a stifled yawn, then her hand drapes back across Root’s waist, wrist leaning on her side.

Suddenly, all her small movements stop, and Shaw’s breath comes to a halt, no longer touching Root’s skin.

"Morning, Sweetie," Root greets, trying to keep the jump out of her voice as her lips part into a toothy grin. "Sleep well?"

Shaw rolls away, hand quickly leaving Root’s side, and Root can feel where her presence is missed. She shifts the opposite way, making sure to keep hold of Shaw’s hand without getting tangled up. Once on her back, she looks over at Shaw with affectionate eyes.

Shaw’s expression is neutral, face conveying nothing more than a tad of annoyance, but Root can see the shock in her eyes. Shaw’s eyes flicker to their hands, then back to Root. Angrily, she tugs her hand free, turning her face to look at the ceiling as a small, heated blush paints her cheeks. Root turns, bringing herself onto her side as she watches Shaw, using her left hand to prop her head up.

Shaw’s eyes glance over to Root, but her head remains fixed. Seeing her like this, Root can’t keep the smug smirk from her face.

"Everything alright, Sam?" She asks, voice having a little too much satisfaction and not enough inquisitiveness. She stretches her hand out slightly, letting her fingers trail down Shaw’s arm. She glares at Root, shooting her a quick sneer before sitting up. She rolls her shoulders around, muscles rippling as they awaken from sleep, and she stands, heading to the dresser to find clothes. Root opens her mouth to speak again when her phone rings.

Looking at the caller ID, she lets off a quick smile before answering. “Detective.”

"Nutella."

"Need something?"

"Yeah, where are you and Shaw? We need your rears down at the station."

” _Sorry_ , Lionel,” Root tells him with a sympathetic tone and a pout to match. Her eyes drift  over to Shaw, and she looks her up and down. “We’re running a little late. We’ve been cuddling, you  _know_ , all that  _girl_  stuff.” Instantly, Shaw’s head whips towards Root, eyes a deadly fire, promising her a painful death. Her jaw is set with an enraged purse to her lips, hands balling into tight fists as she stops getting dressed to stare at Root with contempt.

"Yeah, you wish," Lionel replies with a chuckle. "Where is she  _really_?”

"Dunno," Root responds with a conversational tone, pushing off of the bed to stand. "Haven’t seen her yet today." Shaw’s expression changes to annoyance as she follows Root with her eyes. Root gives her a casual wink.

"Well, when you do, Glasses wants the both of you down here."

"You got it," Root replies, hanging up. When she looks up from her phone to see Shaw’s smoldering gaze, she stops, a smile creeping to her features. Not saying anything more on the subject, she slips past Shaw, heading for the bathroom.

"Getting a shower," she informs her, turning at the door frame. "Feel free to join me- you look like you could use a good cooling off."

Shaw shakes her head at Root’s suggestive tone, rolling her eyes as she stalks from the room.

__________\ We’ll Find You /__________

"Three days in a row now, Sameen; there something you wanna tell me?" Root can feel the ultimate pleasure rumbling from her words as they walk down the street, just finishing up with the day’s number. Shaw refuses to look at her, wanting someone to talk in her ear, anything but this.

"I don’t know what your talking about," Shaw replies coolly, stopping at the corner. Root stands at her side, a thought-filled countenance playing on her face.

"I’m talking about  _this_ ,” she replies, coming to wrap her arms around Shaw’s waist. Shaw draws back fiercely, nearly hitting the man beside her. He grumbles, walking off, all the while she gives Root a hard look.

"It’s  _nothing_ ,” Shaw spits, crossing the street.

"I’m  _pretty_  sure it’s something,” Root counters, eyes trained on Shaw, who is looking away once more.

"Dream," Shaw responds with little interest, now looking to Root. "An explosion in my dream. It’s instinct to cover the person beside you." Her words are a hair too fast and smidgen too performed.

” _Three_  nights in a  _row_?” Root questions skeptically, and Shaw’s eyes turn to slits. The sun dips behind city buildings as the day draws to a close, and the two women turn into the apartment building. Taking the short elevator ride up, they walk to Root’s door in silence. Root can’t help but steal quick glances at Shaw as she unlocks the door. Finally, there is a click, and Root allows the door to swing open wide.

The entire room is bathed in shades of purple, orange, and pink, the sun set filling it with a dazzling fire.

"Miss. Groves?" Harold’s voice comes in on her ear wig, and she smiles.

"Hi, Harry."

"A new number has come up, a train conductor by the name of Henry Welsh. He has an extensive criminal record under his actual identity Henry Benovard, so it is unclear whether he is the one in danger or the one causing it."

"Sounds like fun," Root replies, walking in and shedding her jacket. "What’s the address?"

"There isn’t one," Harold replies. "However, you and Miss. Shaw have a train to catch at Grand Central Station- 4:36 a.m. I advise you go to bed early, it may be a long trip."

"Got it," she tells him, kicking off her heels. "I’ll call Shaw and let her know."

"I don’t believe you have to  _call_  her to let her know,” he responds, and she freezes.

"… You know…?" Her voice is hushed and hesitant, eyes peering around for any sings of Shaw.

” _Honestly_ , Miss. Groves, did you  _really_  think you could keep it from me?” He asks, amusement playing in his words.

"Who else knows," she demands, worrying over Shaw’s reaction if the entire team is enlightened.

"As it stands, I think I’m the only one." She sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing.

"4:36, Grand Central Station," she says to him, trying to skirt past their previous topic.

"Yes, and don’t be late. Goodnight, Miss. Groves." He hangs up, and she pulls the ear wig from her ear, placing it on the kitchen counter as she walks in. Shaw is sitting on the far end of it, eating a sandwich.

"Harold says we have a train to catch in the morning; time to call it a night." Shaw slides off of the counter, wiping her mouth as she swallows.

"You can go, I’m staying out." Root gives her a quizzical stare. "Couch," she clarifies, nodding her head to the living room. Root tilts her head to the side, looking at her with soft eyes.

"You know I was only kidding with you earli-"

"I know," Shaw cuts her off, voice solid and unreadable. Root stands, waiting for any further explanation, but receives none. With a silent sigh, she nods, walking towards the bedroom. Slightly stung, she undresses, then flicks off the light, settling down for the night. From the other side of the wall, Shaw stands, listening. Once she’s sure Root is not getting back up, she finishes her sandwich, then comes to the couch, sitting on it with exhaustion.

 _Wonderful_ , she thinks sarcastically, resting her elbows on her legs, and forehead on her clasped hands.  _This is just wonderful_. She eases her boots off, mind wandering. _I need to think_. Walking back, she heads towards the smaller bathroom on the other side of the apartment, not wanting to disturb Root. Grabbing a towel, she turns the faucet. Once it is at the right temperature, she steps in, allowing the steaming water loosen the knots in her muscles, letting the water rush through her hair and down her spine. _So think: why are you doing this?_ She runs a hand through her wet hair, pondering, searching for an answer.  _There was no dream, she knows that_ , Shaw scolds herself half-heartedly.  _So why do you do that? What changed that you just roll over at night and latch on to her? Are you insane?_  She chuckles to herself at that.  _Probably_.

 _It’s nice_ , she acknowledges, running her face under the warm water, feeling herself start to tire.  _Not that I’d ever tell her that_. Turning off the water, she steps out, enveloping herself in the large towel. She comes to stand in front of the mirror, asking herself once more why she’s doing this. She looks around for an answer, not finding one in the steam surrounding her. With a sigh, she opens the door, feeling the air hit her bare arms and legs coldly, and she slinks silently into the bedroom. Grabbing out something to wear, she slips on comfortable garb, slicking her wet hair back into a sloppy ponytail. Peering over to the bed, she sees Root’s back turned to her, sleeping peacefully. _Why do you do it?_ She insists. Looking at Root, the smallest smile comes to her face in the dark, and she shakes her head.

 _I don’t know_ , she answers herself.  _But it’s not so bad._  After a moments deliberation, she creeps forward, slipping under the covers beside Root. Wrapping her arm around Root’s abdomen, she nestles in close. _It’s comfortable_ , she confesses to herself, realizing how well of a fit it is. Arm around her, forehead at her neck, hand on Root’s opposite shoulder- it seemed like the right pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

"You’re doing it again," Root’s voice drifts over to Shaw in mock-chastisement, and she can hear the smile in Root’s words.

"Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping or something?" Shaw replies, in a low voice. Root says no more, and Shaw closes her eyes.


End file.
